


and she dreams through the noise, her weight against me

by questionsthemselves



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, Post-GOTG2, Pre-Slash, Rare Pairings, autonomy, learning to people is hard, life after ego
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionsthemselves/pseuds/questionsthemselves
Summary: Neblua touches her, and there’s a galaxy exploding in her mind, and dizzying, churning oceans in her eyes, and she falls a little in love. She’s often a little in love with the people she touches, feeling the tangled kaleidoscope of the very best and worst that person could be. But this…Before she can stop herself, she’s whispering, “You’re beautiful,” and then she’s clapping a hand over her mouth, hand springing back away from the perfect smooth seam where synth flesh met skin.For Mantis, learning to people is hard but somehow being with Nebula never is.





	and she dreams through the noise, her weight against me

**Author's Note:**

> I can blame this all on Sciatrix, for inadvertently ushering me into rarest-pair hell. ^_^ 
> 
> This is dedicated to you - happy, happy birthday Sci, I hope it was a wonderful one! <3

The first candy Mantis ever eats is space dust. Peter’s grinning as he gives it to her, calls it ‘space pop rocks.’Licking a stripe out of the packet she feels it fizzing and dancing in her mouth, tasting like the best kind of surprise. She immediately decides it’s her favorite. It’s one of things she’s good at, knowing when something’s right. 

Even after Gamora shares her chocolate, and Rocket lets her steal a candy-coated Beastie out of his tin, her mind never changes.

 

The Guardians like that, showing her all the things Ego had kept her from. She likes it too but it puzzles her how this to them means she's an innocent, how they watch her learning this strange dance of social interaction that has as many unspoken rules as language, and take from it she needs their sheltering. 

She tries not to resent it, mostly. They’re the first friends she’s ever had.

Ego had never tried to spare her the mercurial winds of his emotions - although, she thinks, it was not that he trusted in her strength, only that her well-being was never a moment in his consideration **.** It’s funny her purpose was to help him sleep, because now, she rarely can. The things she sees when she closes her eyes are coated in the slimy oil slick of him - his disappointment, his frustrated anger, the avaricious entitlement to everything he saw.

She understands more than people will ever think she does.

This, the way the world sees her, is why she thinks Drax never quite got it when told him she doesn’t even like the type of thing he is. Part of her is glad no one knows - it makes it easier to hide the way her heart speeds under Nebula’s spiky glare, the way her voice flutters and flutes when she talks to her. 

Nebula may have refused the offer to join the Guardians, but she’s a strangely predictable presence on their ship all the same in the months after Ego.She spends most of the time Gamora isn’t trying to have awkward bonding moments with Kraglin in the engine room. Mantis thinks it’s because Kraglin doesn’t try and make her talk, isn’t intimidated by her in the slightest, just tinkers with his bits and bobs of wiring and gears and lets her be. 

Even though she’s never touched her, never even had a long conversation, there’s something when Mantis looks at Nebula that makes her think _yes_ , that makes her think _right._ It's the thing in her gut she's learned to trust, and so she thinks _someday._

 

One of the perks of her habitual insomnia, Mantis has found, is that it gives her a chance to spend time alone with whomever’s on night watch. She’s gotten used to each of their quirks, their little habits and hobbies, what they like to talk about when there’s no one else but her listening. It’s peaceful, just existing, without the weight of expectations.

Tonight, she’s caught off guard because it’s not one of the Guardians watching the bridge, it’s Nebula, and a little “oh,” catches in her throat before she can stop herself.Nebula’s head snaps up, eyes dark and inscrutable.

“You are not on watch with me tonight.” 

It’s only as blunt as she always is, but Mantis feels her cheeks warm anyways. 

“No, but I do not sleep well most nights, so I come here,” she say, grabs one wrist with her other hand to keep them both still. 

Mantis had never felt really alone, until she left Ego. His presence permeated the air, soaked into her every moment she was on his planet, and as much as she feels free here sometimes she feels emptily, achingly alone. 

But Nebula isn’t glaring, isn’t judging her, just cocks her head and looks at her. 

“You can feel emotions, just being around people?”

“No-o,” Mantis says, “I must be in contact with someone, most of the others do not mind it… it helps me rest.”

Nebula blinks at her, turns back to whatever she’s tinkering with - Mantis takes that as permission to stay. 

Nebula becomes a regular on the bridge, and Mantis comes to treasure the nights they spend together, quietly sitting. She watches Nebula fiddle with her mechanical things, improving her bionics or parts of the ship, and when she’s really bored twisting little creations out of wire. A few spiky figurines pop up among the other assorted dashboard doodads, and sometimes Mantis picks them up, fingers them wistfully. She never asks to touch Nebula though, and Nebula never brings it up. 

 

Mantis can’t remember her family, her people, but she has dreams about them anyways - spears of light, cold eyes, bubbling blue subsumption. She tells Nebula about them. Mantis thinks of all people, she would understand. 

Nebula doesn’t look at her in pity, or horror, doesn’t look up at all from where she’s fiddling with her current project with some sort of multitool. The gentle tweaks turn suddenly though into jabbing prods, and one particularly hard one has the tool twisting away from Nebula’s distracted grasp, bouncing to the floor. 

Mantis scoops the little tool off the ground, offers it back and – Nebula touches her.

Neblua touches her, and there’s a galaxy exploding in her mind, and dizzying, churning oceans in her eyes, and she falls a little in love. She’s often a little in love with the people she touches, feeling the tangled kaleidoscope of the very best and worst that person could be. But this…before she can stop herself, she’s whispering, “You’re _beautiful,”_ and then she’s clapping a hand over her mouth, hand springing back away from the perfect smooth seam where synth flesh met skin.

Maybe she can run, maybe Nebula won’t stop her, but she’s not angry, she’s not glaring, she’s only looking at her in baffled aversion like a startled cat. Nebula, Mantis realizes, thinks she’s _lying._

As much as she doesn’t know how to navigate this, she can’t let Nebula think that so Mantis cants closer, hands lifting a little from her sides as she says the first thing she thinks of, blurts out “you feel like pink, and waves, like tasting space dust.” 

Nebula eyes her suspiciously, but she doesn’t run, doesn’t spit cold dismissal back and that’s enough for Mantis to grab courage in her fingers and force the words out. 

“Can… can I stay with you a little longer? I will not be a bother.” 

Nebula tilts her head, doesn’t answer. Then she slides a little sideways down the bench, leaving a space just big enough for a small person. Mantis sets herself gingerly down, leans just close enough she can reach an arm across herself, tuck the back of her palm behind Nebula’s shoulder blade and feel the fizzing, tumultuous roil of her. 

It’s laps at her brain like the rhythm of waves, and as Nebula tinkers Mantis can feel it lulling her, lets herself drift in it until she realizes she’s drooped enough her cheek is resting on Nebula’s shoulder. She’s resting on Nebulas shoulder, and Nebula is letting her, and she hiccups a little breath at the perfection of it. 

Maybe it means nothing, but she still never wants to move.

 

The next day, Nebula is gone. She can see Gamora giving her sympathetic looks, knows Nebula must have said something to her before she left. She doesn’t need that though, doesn’t need them to feel sad for her. The fragile weight of Nebula’s trust sits inside like rainbow glistened glass, and that gift is its own kind of comfort, a beautiful thing in its own right. There’s nothing sad about it. 

 

It’s five cycles later that she’s woken in the middle of the night by a sullen knock at her door. 

“Peter said I should bunk with you,” Nebula isn’t looking at Mantis, and they both know perfectly well that she always bunks with Gamora but Mantis only smiles, cracks open the door and shuffles sleepily back to the bed. She leaves the covers flipped down, curls herself close the wall. 

After a beat she feels the low heat of Nebula behind her, shifting a little stiffly as she settles. Mantis inches backwards, barely breathing, waits. Then Nebula is slowly, slowly, dropping her hand over Mantis’ ribcage, sliding an arm over her when Mantis wriggles encouragingly closer. 

They sleep like that, sheltered against each other. 

 

In the morning, Nebula tells her she has to leave, only came by to have Kraglin look at her hand and can’t stay longer. Mantis thinks she looks a regretful at that - remembers the way Nebula effortlessly fixed her own biomechanics and thinks maybe this was something else, after all. 

“I will miss you,” she says simply. Maybe someday Nebula will take her along andshow more of all the things she hasn’t seen, maybe after she reaches what she’s looking for. Nebula stares at her for a moment, brow furrowed grumpily and then she reaches into her bag, clutches something in her hand and shoves it towards Mantis. 

“This is for you.” 

Mantis blinks down, sees the tiny bundle of shining copper wires, twisted into a small figurine with tiny antennae arching over black polished hair. It’s _her._ Nebula made this for her. 

Nebula huffs, starts to yank her hand back as Mantis stands there frozen, but then Mantis is gulping, “Thank you. I…” and reaches a hand to Nebula’s shoulder, uses the other to pluck the doll gently from Nebula’s claw like grip, “I like this very much.” 

She blinks wetly for a moment, treasuring the way the giddy fizzy feeling flares stronger, and lets go. 

“So,” Nebula’s voice is gruff, “I’ll see you. Around.” 

Her face looks like it would be blushing it is wasn’t mostly synth skin at this point, and then she’s spinning on her heels and stalking towards her M-ship. 

Mantis holds her hands to her chest, cupping the little figurine reverently, and there’s something glowing inside her that’s only her own - something very much like joy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still rather uncertain about this, I'm never written these characters before and I'm a bit little shaky I think - I welcome any thoughts/comments! All are <3


End file.
